A Tale of Strife
by Relltensai
Summary: The story of Dragon Ball set in an alternate universe. The destiny of the Saiyan people, decided long ago, is changed forever. The result of this altering sends a ripple effect throughout the universe, wiping the slate, and creating a new reality where the future is unknown.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Vegeta was a world built upon the labors of the weak. Where once discovery and knowledge had been the paradigm, the planet was now governed by the strength of one's' fists. In the year 550, an alien people fled to the planet, trading the destiny they'd been born with for a destiny that no one could quite foresee. The planet, known as Plant, was home to the Tsufurujins, a race of technologically advanced beings whom had built for themselves a thriving society. The other worldly refugees, known as Saiyans, were polar opposites of the Tsufurujins. Where technology and medicine were staples of Tsufurujin culture, the Saiyans held one belief above all else; The strong survive. These conflicting ideals led the two societies to a head.

In the year 720, the Saiyans declared war on the Tsufurujin people. Where the Tsufurujins had lived in shining cities of glass and steel, the Saiyans had existed in a perpetual state of squalor, housed in caves, or shanties built on the outskirts of Tuffle cities. The war went well for the Tsufurujins at first, their superior technology and armaments giving them an overwhelming advantage. However, as the war seemed to be nearing an end, the Saiyans destiny made itself known. Ten years after the conflicts' onset, a full moon appeared. To the Tsufurujins, this meant nothing. A regular, if infrequent, lunar occurrence. To the Saiyans, however, it was salvation.

The full moon caused a transformation within the saiyans, a genetic trait that only surfaced when a saiyan was exposed to a large amount of lunar energy. Gigantic, ape-like creatures appeared on the edges of Tsufurujin cities, their newly gained power enough to withstand the Tuffle weapons that had previously brought them to their knees. City after city fell to the beasts, and it was only after the Tsufurujins had been brought to the edge of extinction that the Saiyans saw fit to end the conflict.

The Saiyans quickly acclimated to the new technology, digesting the information as quickly as they had decimated the Tsufurujin population. While it was true the Saiyans were a simple and brutish people, they had the capacity to be very cunning when it suited their needs. The sudden shift in stature did not change the nature of the Saiyans, however. Since being brought into existence, it had been the Saiyans instinct to do battle. With the technology now at their disposal, the saiyans could do so on an intergalactic scale, as well as for profit. Word quickly spread of the Saiyan peoples' propensity for combat, so quickly that the Planet Trade Organization took an interest in their talents.

Presided over by an extremely powerful Changeling Lord, the PTO was an equally powerful, intergalactic conglomerate. Envisioned around the year 550 as a universal realty business, the PTO grew more quickly than any of its' founders could have imagined. Decades passed, and the PTO continued to grow, gathering underneath its' umbrella a number of races, factions and companies. The Saiyans were one of these races.

Shortly after the Saiyans had leapt onto the intergalactic scene, the PTO made contact with them and contracts began being discussed. The Saiyans were set to become soldiers fighting in the name of the PTO, serving as the backbone of the company's' planet acquisition branch. Saiyans would travel either solo, or in groups, to planets deemed fit for sale, and would clear the planet of sentient life. The planet would then be sold by the PTO in an auction, where the highest bidder would have first pick of any planets currently on the market.

The Saiyans thrived in this atmosphere. The combination of the PTOs' guiding hand, and the Saiyans natural urge to do battle made for a potent combination. Some dissidence was present within the Saiyan population, as many did not like the authority that the PTO held over them. For the most part, however, the Saiyans' fell in line, happy to do the companies bidding of clearing planets by any means necessary.

Years passed and the Saiyans settled into their new role as members of the PTO. Having conquered Plant, they renamed the planet Vegeta, in honor of their leader and King. The King's enacted policies led to the Saiyan homeworld becoming a center for PTO military operations, as well as a hotspot for the numerous mercenaries that inhabited the galaxy. The developing culture of Vegetas' stratocratic republic had a great effect on the Saiyan attitude towards child rearing.

It had at one time been customary for the weakest of the Saiyans to tend to the children while the rest did battle. With the Saiyans sudden exposure to technology, it became policy for children to be born, and then placed in automated nurseries overseen by one or two attendants. Tests started being administered at birth that measured the Saiyan childrens' potential for combat. Those deemed gifted were raised and trained to be members of the Royal Saiyan Army. The rest, known as infiltration babies, were sent individually to planets where the dominant race was considered too weak to waste a proper planet acquisition teams' time. The Saiyan children would arrive at their assigned planets via assault pods, transform at the sight of the full moon, and clear the planet of life.

And thus, the Saiyan Empire joined the Planet Trade Organization.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Vegeta woke with a start. His quarters, dimly lit by the display of his scouter, were silent. Simply furnished, the room was near empty. But it didn't feel that way to the Saiyan Prince.

"Who's there?"

The words came out as a whisper, but seemed to echo in the boys' ears. The light of the scouter flickered, and Vegeta called out once more.

"Who's there?"

The Princes' voice was louder now, and more stern. Throwing back the sheets of his bed, the boy stood, casting a glance around the room, challenging the coward that dared to break into his chambers.

"Show yourself, coward!"

Vegetas' voice was harsh now, colored with anger. He strode to the wall and pressed a switch, flooding the room with light. Looking to each corner, the boy found no one. No coward hiding in the shadows, no assailant poised to strike.

"Hm."

Vegeta made his way to the window on the far side of his bed. He checked the magnetic latches, both of which were locked tight. The entrance to his room was locked as well, but that was impossible. Something had woken him, but what? It had felt like a gust of air, or as if a wave had crashed down upon him. Then his eyes had opened, and he was still in his room.

"A dream," the boy supposed. He flipped the lights back off, and fell into his bed. He had a mission to depart for in three hours. Assigned to him in person, by Lord Frieza. He was to clear an Alpha class planet, but instead of being sent with a squad, he had been instructed to complete the mission solo. A challenge, he thought. Frieza was finally recognizing his talents, and was now choosing to give him a mission that would truly test him. Father would be proud.

Vegeta rolled over, and shut his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. He pictured his assault pod crashing into the planet, and the look of the inhabitants as he stepped out of his ship.

"I'll kill them all…" He murmured, drifting back to sleep.

Morning came quickly for the Saiyan Prince. After bathing and visiting the mess hall, he started for the launch bay, passing Nappa on his way there. The Saiyan General showered wishes of luck and success on him, not that he needed it. He was the son of the King, after all, and could have outmatched the General despite being a fraction of his age.

"Shut up, Nappa. Just try not to get killed while I'm gone."

Vegeta arrived at the launch bay moments later, and found the ship assigned to him. He climbed into the pod and activated the life support systems before self initiating the launch sequence. Generally a bay attendant would have done so, but the Prince had made a point to do things himself.

Less opportunity for some fool to make a mistake and postpone his missions, he reasoned. The ships' engines came to life with a roar, and the locking mechanisms detached themselves from its' outer haul.

"Bay Seven, cleared for launch," a computerized voice announced.

Several launch attendants cleared the way, though they didn't have to move far. Prince Vegeta was generally given a wide berth by those that didn't know him personally. The bay doors disappeared into the walls, and the guide lights of the launch strip began to power on, clearing the Prince for take off.

Vegeta flipped an overhead switch, and the pod lurched forward, its' propulsion systems activating, carrying him out the bay exit.

The flip of another switch activated the extended travel processes, which in turned dimmed the ships interior lights, engaging the suspended animation protocols. The Prince cursed under his breath and shut his eyes. This was the part of missions he detested the most. Any excitement that being assigned a difficult mission caused was quickly erased by the fact that he had to sleep for half a year between departure and arrival.

It will be worth it though, Vegeta assured himself. An Alpha class planet would truly test his limits, and that would be well worth the wait. The ship began to quake, informing the boy that he was now leaving the planets' atmosphere. The Prince sighed, and found a comfortable position in his seat. At the very least, he thought, his consciousness beginning to fade, it would be a year without Nappa.

**-S-**

Dosetsu woke with a start. His head was throbbing, but he forced himself into a sitting position, taking a look at his surroundings. Shipping crates dominated his view, with a door visible between a few. The crates were decorated with the typical PTO label. The Saiyan stood, dusting himself off and checking for any injuries. The crate beneath him had broken under his weight, with chunks of plasteel littered around it. Luckily for the owner, the contents had been emptied before it had met him.

Dosetsu stood, glancing around. He seemed to be in a storage area, or some sort of stocking department. Storage units lined the walls, most of which had one crate or several stacked on top of them. The Saiyan began to make his way towards the door, taking care to retrieve his scouter from the ground. As little as he used it, it was still his only real possession.

The door opened with a button press, opening up to a brightly lit hallway. "So this is where I end up. I guess the outpost wasn't such a good idea…" The Saiyan sighed. He'd hoped one night back on the grid would have been fine, but apparently not. Restraint wasn't one of his strongest suites, and his foresight wasn't any better. This string of thoughts was interrupted by the sound only an empty stomach can make.

"What to do about breakfast.."

Dosetsu quickened his pace and reached a door at the end of the hallway. The door led to the stereotypical business entrance, equipped with barriers to shepherd a long line and a desk that screamed customer service. Apparently his acquaintances from the night before had dumped him in an abandoned PTO contract center. The Planet Trade Organization generally dealt with much larger affairs than those you'd find on the ground level of a planet, but they obviously didn't want to run the risk of losing a chance at profit.

Dosetsu was more concerned with what he'd be able to find to eat. It was bad luck to skip breakfast, or so he'd told his squad mates on missions. The Saiyans' mood wilted slightly at the memory, but he pressed on, wrapping his tail around his waist as he pushed through the doors and into the morning air.

The Saiyan supposed Vegeta could be best described as a grassland, though he couldn't say for sure. He hadn't actually seen the entire planet. Where you lived generally wasn't considered important to a Saiyan, as long as there was food, fighting, and after all of that was taken care of, a woman to enjoy. Geography was even less so important to a Saiyan Warrior, as Dosetsu could attest to. What little schooling they were offered was dominated by lessons in how to operate an assault pod, how to operate a scouter, and how to create a moon when there wasn't one readily available.

Dosetsu glanced to the right and squinted, trying to see if any of the street signs said anything about food. They didn't, prompting the Saiyan to check in the other direction. There were a few, but remembering how empty his credit account was, he couldn't quite see how he was going to pay for whatever food he ordered.

"Shit," he breathed, meandering through the streets with his fingers laced behind his head. Finding work was tough in rural areas, and a record like his made it even more difficult. Most people didn't believe his explanation, and the few that claimed to ended up contacting the PTO Enforcers, who then chased him off the outpost and back into the wilderness.

"At least I don't live in a cave, haahahaha…" Dosetsu chuckled, walking through a gap in the fence that surrounded the outpost. The cave of irony that he called home was several units from the PTO establishment, which was intentional. He got a lot less traffic that way than he would have if he'd lived somewhere just off the main road. The biggest issue he had with banishment was the lack of Saiyan interaction.

The Saiyan would never admit to growing lonely, but the truth of the matter was that nature only offered so many opportunities for Dosetsu to fight something other than his own shadow. The wildlife of Vegeta had never been particularly abundant to begin with, and ever since the Saiyans had taken over the planet, any attempts to preserve endangered species had ceased.

"At the very least they could have given me some sort of severance package…" Dosetsu mused, cradling his chin with the a hand while the other grasped his elbow. At first, he'd been angry. Banished with no explanation, and then forced from the city by one of his closest friends. They hadn't given him the opportunity to ask what he'd done. He sighed. That was in the past, and he had other things to worry about. All the sighing he was doing, for one. That was becoming a habit, and that habit was beginning to disrupt his training. He'd begun spending more time wishing he could go back, and less time increasing his strength.

Dosetsu began to sigh again, but caught himself. He had work to do. Green light appeared around the Saiyan, hugging the shape of his body. He shot into the air, and off into the distance, the energy that had gathered around his body leaving a trail in the sky behind him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The sound of assault pods tearing through the atmosphere drew Dosetsu from his trance. It'd been several days since his trip to the outpost, and his newly acquired resolve towards training had yet to wane. The Saiyan struck the air casually a few times, before increasing his pace, sending an eye-bending flurry of punches to his left. A series of kicks followed, which were then accompanied by an arc of light released from his palm. Dosetsu drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. He felt good, but all he was really doing was flexing. He wouldn't gain much strength battling against his imagination.

The Saiyan had chosen the edge of a lake near the capital for his training. It gave him an opportunity to cool off afterwards, which he needed more often than not. Where his training was an emotionless task, watching the flow of traffic in and out of the capital was enough to rile him. Assault pods came and went, as did trade caravans from other hubs on the far sides of the planet. The Saiyan ran a hand through his hair; dark and unkept.

"Nice view at least," he thought aloud, reclaiming his battle armor from where he'd left it on the beach. He slipped it over his head and down past his shoulders, letting the armor fit itself to his body. Black combat leggings covered his legs, with standard issue boots to go with them. He wore no shirt beneath the armor, but he did have greaves to protect his fists. His greaves and boots matched the color scheme of his armor, which was primarily black with yellow trim.

Dosetsu admired the image of himself on the surface of the lake for a moment. It'd been roughly five years since his banishment, and it showed in his reflection. The Saiyan wasn't a boy anymore, he was a warrior.

"Albeit not an elite," he said sternly, crouching to retrieve his scouter. The device, a grayish angle with a green lense, lit up as the Saiyan brought it to his face.

"Huh..?"

It'd been years since the last time he'd intercepted a transmission. The PTO constantly altered the frequency that their scouters operated on, for security reasons, so it made sense for him to stop receiving chatter. Yet here his scouter was, a message received icon pulsing in the corner of it's display. Dosetsu hurriedly attached the device to his face and tapped the receive switch on it's side, bringing the message icon to the center of his screen. The icon began to expand as the message opened, but the expansion was interrupted by a sudden error message.

Red text appeared on the screen, detailing the error as an artificial logic malfunction. Dosetsu interpreted the message somewhat differently, reading it as 'pile of shit scouter decides to quit working at the worst moment'. The Saiyan tore the device from his face and began to close his hand around it, but thought better.

"I won't be able to replace you if I crush you…" He muttered through clenched teeth, placing the scouter back on his face. I'll just have to get it repaired, he thought, rising into the air. Dosetsu cast a glance towards the outpost, but knew instantly that no one there would help him. The Planet Trade Organization, along with its' affiliates, put great stock in the records of former employees. A blemish as sizeable as his own wouldn't be overlooked.

"That leaves… one."

Dosetsu recalled a contact he'd had from his time as a planet acquisition agent. After missions, Saiyans were debriefed, and depending on the outcome of the mission, were either dealt new equipment, or left to their own devices. Having had a relatively small amount of success, the Saiyan had become accustomed to getting repairs or replacements from equipment dealers that weren't officially recognized by the PTO.

His contact was a Kabochian man who'd been involved in smaller planet trade businesses prior to the PTOs' influence spreading to his own world. He went by the name Sirch, and had made a name for himself as an underground arms and equipment dealer. Dosetsu had always pointed out that making a name as an underground dealer defeated the purpose of being underground, but Sirch just laughed him out the door with a repaired scouter. The Saiyan chuckled at the memory as he propelled himself across the lake and towards the capital.

Night had fallen by the time Dosetsu had decided to leave, but the sky still stood ablaze with the glow of the city. Cargo ships formed lines as they found their way into the storage district, each having to stop at sky terminals that took stock of the goods being shipped in and out of the city. This gave the Saiyan the perfect opportunity to hide himself in the undercarriage compartment of a ship. He'd considered just walking through the primary gates, but security was vastly more stringent there.

Dosetsu felt a bit like a Tuffle, hiding within the confines of the ship, but he knew better than to beat himself up over that. There was a difference between being a warrior, and being a fool and trying to fight the Vegetan Capitals' security force. Later, he promised himself. For now, he had no intention of dying.

**-S-**

Explosions rocked the Kanassan cityscape as great apes found their way across miles of steel and stone. Five apes in total had assaulted the planet, five being the standard size for a low class Saiyan squad. Their leader, Bardock, stood at the forefront of the battle, clearing swathes of Kanassajins who positioned themselves to defend. Belches of energy escaped the mouths of the apes, carving through skyscrapers and toppling towers. The strength of the native people simply stood no chance in the face of the Saiyans' power.

Night came and went, and the battle ended, the Saiyans clearing the planet, readying it for resale by the PTO. The group of warriors woke early the next morning, each having to find their way back to their landing site. The squad breakfasted on rations as they prepared for departure, bantering around a fire built on Kanassan corpses.

"The sonsa' bitches got me good," Panbukin grunted, rubbing at the wound he'd been dealt. It wasn't often a Saiyan was wounded in their great ape form. The others laughed, saved for Bardock who lay strewn on the ground, his hands tucked behind his head.

"I bet you remember that ones' face, hahaha..!" Celypa chuckled, her voice shrill but joking. Panbukin made a face at her before returning to coddling his scar.

Totapo, generally the least vocal of the group, chuckled as well, but reserved comment. Toma laughed aloud, glancing in Bardock's direction to see his reaction.

"Bardock! What's the matter with you? They leave a mark on you, too?"

Toma's face lit up as Bardock slung himself into a sitting position, a cheshire grin on his face. He eyed Panbukin for a moment, chortling quietly.

"It's a wonder you aren't more marked up, considering you eat half the natives we kill. You probably weighed down by all the bones in your stomach."

The group laughed again, Panbukin even joining in on the laughter. The fire crackled, and the group grinned at each other. Life as a planet acquisition agent was good, even if you had tested as a low class.

Debris shifting behind Bardock brought the laughter to a halt. The Saiyans peered at the pile of rubble, Toma opting to put his scouter to use. A series of beeps played from the scouters' speaker, before a reading appeared on the page.

"There's something in there, but it's pretty close to dead. Just leave it." He muttered. It didn't seem much fun to kick a dog that was already dead. The Saiyans turned away, having lost interest as the words left the man's mouth.

Bardock, though, kept staring at the spot where the rubble had shifted. They'd been laughing, and suddenly a completely alien sensation had hit the Saiyan. It'd felt as if a wave had crashed down on him, or as if he'd been hit with a gust of air. But he hadn't, had he? None of the others acted like anything strange had happened.

"What the hell..?" Bardock murmured, palming the back of his head.

The pile of rubble erupted as a Kanassajin shot from beneath it, clutching it's extended wrists as it gathered energy. It fired a ball of light towards the Saiyans, but Bardock deflected it with ease. The Kanassajin was haggard, with wounds littered over the entirety of it's body. The native wasn't long for this world.

"Nice try, ya' bastard." Bardock called out, facing his palm towards the Kanassajin.

"Wait! Bardock!"

The sound of his own name caused the warrior to flinch. How did this native know his name? What in the hell was going on? The Saiyan returned his attention to the Kanassajin, who was struggling to speak between labored breaths.

"We… knew that you would come…! We foresaw, and so we prepared, knowing that we would fall in the end!"

"What are you talking about?" Bardock growled, light appearing in the center of his palm. He didn't have time to listen to the ramblings of a dying native. He had a mess hall waiting for him back on Vegeta.

"We have the power of sight! We saw that you would come, and we saw what would occur after you left! Your race is-..." The alien faltered suddenly, as if confused. The Saiyan thanked whatever gods that had shut it up. Energy shot from his hand and engulfed the Kanassajin, tearing at the being's existence as it began to disintegrate.

"I-... I can't see! I can't see what will come! The future…" The Kanassajin cut off as the light from Bardock's attack consumed him, reducing his body to ash.

"Freak," The Saiyan grunted as he turned back to his crew. Their faces bore worried looks, but at the sight of Bardocks' sneer they were all forced to chuckle. The Saiyans' crew burst into laughter, before being silenced by their leader.

"Shut up. It's time to go home."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The storage district was located directly behind behind a system bazaar, separated by a few hundred meters and an access gate. The sounds of crowds moving from one stall to the next poured over the fence, as well as a pounding bass that rattled the plasteel surfaces around the Saiyan. The sounds were alien to Dosetsu, which made sense. The majority of those who went to bazaars like this were aliens, trying to get goods from outside the system.

The man crept along, back pressed against the side of a storage unit. He couldn't afford to even be glimpsed, or else the security would locate him with their scouters. As much as he didn't mind fighting them, once they swarmed him he'd be lucky if he made it out with his tail. The Saiyan's tail bobbed at this thought, before he wrapped it around his waist.

Dosetsu's destination was several districts over, but first he had to weave his way through the storage area. Once he got to the bazaar he'd have no trouble. He doubted there'd be a single guard there, let alone a Saiyan who might actually take interest in him. If there was, though…

He pushed that thought to the side. He had to focus on sneaking for right now, something his species wasn't particularly adept at. The saiyan continued past the container, keeping low and out of the ray of the automated spotlights. A final dash across a small open area and the saiyan found himself only a handful of meters from salvation; an open gate that bridged districts.

A guard was stationed there, though, back turned towards the man. Dosetsu couldn't put a name to the being's race, it's head somewhat bulbous with antennae like appendages protruding from the back of it's neck. The Saiyan tapped his scouter, hoping he was lucky. If he had to exert too much power to take him out, he'd be discovered.

"Six hundred…"

The saiyan breathed a sigh of relief, taking a step forward. He passed out of sight for a moment, reappearing behind the alien. The creature's scouter began to ping and it brought it's hand up, trying to figure out what was going on. Dosetsu acted first, though, chopping it's neck. The alien crumpled to the floor, and the saiyan drug it behind a container, propping it up like it was asleep. He hoped it's race actually slept, or he might run into trouble later.

Chuckling at the thought, Dosetsu made his way through the gate, casting a glance over his shoulder. Nobody was watching as far as he could tell, so he was in the clear. The saiyan quickly disappeared into the crowd of the bazaar, his armor less of a sore thumb than he'd expected. Apparently the PTO's influence had made some strides in the time he'd been gone.

Dosetus wove his way through the bustling district, pushing past groups that stood at stalls, ogling things they wouldn't be able to afford. He couldn't afford them either, but at least he wasn't ogling, he reasoned. The saiyan found his way into the next district, which was filled with more shopping areas, though these were located in buildings as opposed to street stalls.

"This is trade district… three.." He murmured, glancing up at directional signs. Despite having lived in the capital, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time there. Saiyans didn't often get leave, and when they did it was usually spent in a recuperation tank. He chuckled again. A lot of good memories connected to his place, he thought, frowning. There were a lot of bad ones, too.

A woman passed by Dosetsu, a female saiyan with dark hair. Her figure took the saiyan aback; she looked so familiar, maybe she was..?

"Hey! Itonami!"

The woman turned and eye Dosetsu, though it was obvious she didn't know him. He wilted, but quickly said, "Sorry. I thought you were someone else." The woman turned on her heel then and walked off into the crowd. Sighing, the saiyan returned to the task at hand. She wouldn't have been here, anyway. She was an Elite. She wouldn't be caught in a place like this.

He made his way across the shopping area, and through the district gate. It was three districts to the 'Black District', as it was called. Dosetsu hadn't ever really given too much thought to the name, guessing that it was called that because of the poor lighting. Though he wasn't entirely wrong, the type of business carried out in the district had far more to do with it's name.

Dosetsu pushed into the air once he reached the aforementioned district, deciding that flying would give him a better vantage point. In other districts that would get him noticed too easily, as only soldiers were trained enough to fly. In this particular part of the capital, however, it was exceedingly common. A skill as useful as flight wouldn't go ignored in a district so entrenched in opportunity.

The Saiyan quickly found the shop he was looking for, a building with both a standard door as well as a garage opening. The sign on the front flickered as if powered by faulty wiring, though Dosetsu knew that was just to make it look run down. The inside was an entirely different story.

He put himself down at the top of a flight of steps that led to the door, a door signal box to his left. He pressed the button and waited for the door to be unlocked. It didn't seem right to break in after all the favors Sirch had done him.

The box phased from red to green, and the locks deactivated. The saiyan swung the door open and stepped inside, peering up the flight of steps that lay just inside the door. Light filled the stairway suddenly as a shot of energy screamed towards Dosetsu. He corralled it in the palm of his hand, swinging it back behind him, into the streets of the district. The Saiyan heard the explosion, but didn't look. His eyes were locked on the man standing at the top of the stairway. He was a Kabochian man, very slightly built, with his arm tucked inside a blaster.

"The hell was that for?"

Sirch scratched his head sheepishly, an apologetic look on his face. It wasn't every day he got a visitor, after all. Particularly a Saiyan fully equipped in PTO gear. In fact, it'd been more than five years since he'd been paid a visit by someone like that.

"Uh-... Security. You saiyans all look the same, how was I supposed to recognize you?"

Dosetsu brushed the comment off, a grin now playing on his lips.

"You're damn lucky you aren't someone else. I'd have shoved my fist through your chest."

Sirch laughed at this, but quickly took on a serious tone. He kept the blaster at his side, but was ready to pull it back up at any moment. He had a question to ask the saiyan, and only one answer would satisfy him.

"Did…" He began, but paused for a moment. He couldn't believe he was asking one of closest friends this, but he had to. The man had to make sure.

"Did you kill Itonami?"

**-S-**

Bardock had been sent to the medical center as soon as he arrived back on Vegeta, despite his protests. It was regulation for soldiers to visit with their individually assigned doctors after a mission, regardless of whether they were injured. The worry was that they'd pick up a pathogen of some sort from the alien planet, though that wasn't particularly common.

Malaka was the Saiyan's primary physician, though Planthorr often took care of him during his visits while Malak was busy with others. An injured saiyan was just about any saiyan at one point in time, so the doctors of Vegeta were constantly busy. The doctorly duo had a soft spot for Bardock, so seeing him walk through the doors, as opposed to being carted in, was a pleasant surprise.

Formalities between the three were a thing of the past, so the Saiyan quickly kicked his feet up on the desk of the two as they went to work scanning him, exchanging pleasantries all the while.

"I hear you've had a son, Bardock. I never thought you'd settle down."

Malaka's beak clicked together as he spoke, but he was obviously grinning on the inside. Bardock laced his fingers behind his head with a laugh, taking the joke in stride. "You know me better than that. He'll probably get shipped off, and I won't see him til he's grown."

That was the way he wanted it, too. Bardock had no interest in interacting with his child, especially when he couldn't even speak yet. The saiyan met enough aliens that couldn't talk, he didn't need his son to remind him of them.

The doctors chuckled in unison as they finished up their scans. Bardock's silhouette popped up on a display on the wall, shining green.

"I guess I'm good to go," The Saiyan said, popping up from his seat and making his way towards the door. "I'll go visit the kid, and I'll tell him you both said hi."

The two waved as the saiyan disappeared down the hallway, giving each other a knowing look. They both glanced up at the display before returning to their work. A moment later, they did a double take.

"Ten… Ten thousand?!" Planthorr murmured incredulously. That was the kind of power only the most accomplished elites could claim. Bardock was rated as a low-class warrior, nothing more than a basic soldier. King Vegeta himself only had twelve thousand, maybe a bit more.

"He needs to be retested. There's something special about him."

Malaka nodded in response, still gazing up at the display. He made his way over towards a console, accessing the data for the rest of Bardock's squad. They were all middling in power, averaging out at around twenty-five hundred, nowhere near the power of their squad leader.

"He's special indeed, Planthorr."

Bardock had found his way to the nursery by that time. He'd been forced to get directions because for the life of him he couldn't remember where it was, but after a bit of trial and error, he made it. The nursery consisted of room after room, completely visible through walls lined with rectangular windows. The Saiyan wasn't sure why there were so many windows with how infrequent visitors were, but he was thankful for it now. He could tell by the muffled wails that he didn't want to actually go into any of these rooms.

A few moments passed as he browsed through the cribs, reading for the label that would identify his son.

"Son of Spinish… Son of Paragus… Son of-... Here!"

The Saiyan's heart skipped a beat. As little as he actually cared for the child, he was still his own creation. There was something satisfying in that. Bardock tapped the side of his scouter, initiating a scan of the infant's power.

"Average…" He said dejectedly. In truth, he couldn't have expected much more. He'd been born with roughly the same power, though that had been during the early years of the war. They'd just been glad he'd been born at all back then.

"Well, kid…" Bardock began, palm resting against the glass, as if to get a bit closer to his son. Words didn't seem to want to come, at least nothing poetic, so he simply said:

"Watch your tail and don't die. I'll see you in a few years."

With that he made his way out of the nursery. He hadn't eaten since they'd left Kanassa, and it was time to rectify that. The Saiyan felt his stomach grumble as he quickened his pace.

"Mess hall here I come."

* * *

Hey all, it's Relltensai here. I'm starting to get the hang of writing a bit more regularly, so hopefully I can't start pumping out chapters within some sort of schedule. Obviously this is AU, so there will be some obvious differences, and some not so obvious, so keep a look out. If you find anything lore wise I butcher, I'd be appreciative if you pointed that out to me! It may or may not be intentional, but attention to detail is important to me. Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Cold metal pressed against the woman's cheek, her eyes fluttering open at the sudden coolness on her face. The room she was in was poorly lit, the only light coming from the flickerings of computer modules that decorated the walls. She tried to roll onto her side, but couldn't seem to get her muscles to cooperate, her mind sending signals but her body unable to respond.

The woman was laying on a table in some sort of lab, that much she had gathered. That small bit of information was enough to worry her, the woman's imagination already running rampant as she glanced around the room. Her eyes seemed in working order, as well as her eyelids and the surround area on her face. Her mouth, though, as well as the rest of her body, seemed to be completely paralyzed. Even her tail, usually lively, remained stationary.

"Where am I?"

The woman flinched at the sound of her own voice, or would have, if she'd been able to move.

"What the hell? What is that? Where's my voice…"

She trailed off as she realized what was happening, though stopping her train of thought didn't necessarily have the desired effect. A portion of her thoughts appeared to be being played back through a speaker. This realization was played back as well, accompanied by a string of profanities and a miniature horror show of her imagined surroundings.

"Stop! Stop it! Stop it n-..."

The broadcast stopped suddenly stopped. Generators began to hum around her. Off the licensed grid, she thought, before overhead lights powered on, blinding the saiyan. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness she was met by the stare of a shortish man, clothed in a lab coat. The irony of her situation was not lost on her, but at the moment there were other things to worry about.

"Who are you?"

Her mouth had apparently decided to work again, words spilling forth. There was something horrible about having the ability to speak taken away, and something extremely liberating about having it given back.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I? What are you doing to me? I ought to rip your fuckin' legs off."

The man simply smiled and nodded, striding towards a display panel, his fingertips sliding charts and panels across the screen. The saiyan woman wasn't sure whether he'd been nodding at her, or at the charts, but she kept up her verbal onslaught. As soon as her arms started working again, she was going to teach him a lesson in manners.

"I'm afraid your arms won't be activated just yet, at least not until you've shown me a bit of compliance."

She froze up at this, her whole body going cold. What had he just said? Her arms wouldn't be… activated? What was that supposed to mean?

Apparently every thought she had was being made plain to the man as he chuckled out a reply.

"It means that I have deactivated them. Or rather, I have yet to activate them in the first place, at least since the procedure."

He smiled at her knowingly, the yellow of his teeth showing between his lips. The saiyan swallowed, partly to reassure herself that she was still able to move her head. She craned her neck up, trying to get a slightly better view of the lab she was in. The muscles in her neck went cold suddenly, her head falling and chin slamming into the table beneath her.

"Ah, my apologies. I didn't realize you were wanting to look around. After I run a few tests, how about I give you a bit of a walk around? You'd like that, wouldn't you, Itonami?"

The saiyan wasn't sure why, but the sound of her name caused her to feel afraid of the man. Maybe it was simply that he knew, or the way he said her name with confidence, as if what he was doing would go unpunished. Itonami glared upwards at him, eliciting a chuckle.

"Who are you?" Her thoughts broadcast once more through the speaker.

The man patted her on the head, which she now realized had been shaved. She felt a shudder coming at his touch, but her inactive muscles didn't seem to notice. The man faced away from her, clasping onto something on his desk. He turned, and her eyes widened.

"I," the man began, holding up his trophy. Clutched in his fist was something unforgivable. Something cruel, and something she swore she would have his spine for. It was her tail.

"Am Dr. Beamed, a tsufurujin bionic engineer. As for you…"

The man paused for a moment, considering what he'd say next. It wasn't every day you got to assert yourself over a saiyan, especially one of such high ranking. He would have to choose his words carefully.

"You are my new assistant. Let's get along."

He grinned. Perfect.

**-S-**

It wasn't possible. There was simply no chance that this could happen, not to her. She was a warrior, a saiyan elite. There were no greater soldiers in all of Frieza's army. But as Sirch continued to show him report logs, Dosetu's adamancy faltered. Energy scans proved that her power had suddenly disappeared, as if wiped off the face of the planet. Scouts had been dispatched to the last location the saiyan woman's energy had been picked up at. Her scouter had been their, damaged, as well as a crater. She'd been completely obliterated.

Sirch turned to his friend, his mouth a twisted scowl. At first he'd shared the saiyan's opinion that it was impossible. He only knew of a few people that could defeat Itonami, let alone wipe her off the face of the planet. But the evidence was there. Traces of her biological signature had even been found, though they were sparse. The woman had very literally been erased from existence.

Dosetsu's entire face was contorted in rage, his fists balled up on his thighs. Sirch could tell the man was straining against his anger, a fact which he was thankful for. There was no telling how much damage the saiyan would cause if he let himself go. He went to place a hand on the man's shoulder, but thought better of it. A few minutes of silence would serve his purpose better than trying to console his friend.

He stood, taking his portable display and laying it on his desk. Sirch scratched at the back of his head nervously. As far as saiyans went, Dosetsu was laid back. Seeing him like this was disconcerting. Seeing him at all was bad, though. The man had been banished, whether rightfully or not. That meant if he'd been detected, the capital security would be after him.

"Why are you here, anyway? You know you're dead if you get caught."

Dosetsu ground his teeth for a moment more, but his face had begun to return to it's normal shade. He let out a breath, turning to the kabochian, his forehead still creased with lines of anger.

"My scouter…" He started, but stopped. Dosetsu gave his fists one last squeeze. She was dead, that was it. He could be angry once he got out of the city. For now, he couldn't afford to be anything but collected.

"I received a message on my scouter, but it wouldn't let me open it.. I got an error when I tried to access it."

Sirch nodded, reaching out to take the scouter. He took it to his desk and attached it to his computer with a short cable which plugged into the underside of the device. Scouters were pretty reliable devices, so it was surprising that an error of any kind occurred. Then again, he thought, it'd been handled by a saiyan ever since he'd sold it to him. There was no telling what kind of punishment it had been dealt.

Sirch brought up the transfer logs, accessing the most recently received transmissions. The message the saiyan was talking about was there, though it was odd. Messages of any kind almost always had an identifier, for security purposes. If a message was sent and someone ended up dying in relation to it, the person sending it, as well as the person that received it, could be traced by this identifier. This message, however, had no identifier.

"Hmm…. that would mean that…" The Kobochian thought aloud, though it only took a moment for him to realize what it meant. He flung himself from the chair, bringing the scouter along with him. Dosetsu stood at this, and watched as Sirch made his way to a window, threw the scouter from it, and sent a blast of energy towards it, eradicating the device.

"What… what the hell? Why did you do that? I'm not paying you for another!" The saiyan shouted, fists balled up again. Now was not the time to piss the saiyan off further. As much of a friend as Sirch was, he'd still beat him til walking wasn't an option.

The Kabochian turned to the saiyan, worry evident in his eyes. There was no telling how much time Dosetsu had, but he knew it wasn't long. If what he assumed was true, the pair would be on the receiving end of some visitors very shortly.

"That message was sent by the PTO. They knew you'd come here if they sent a message to your scouter that you couldn't open. They lured you back!"

The Saiyan's eyes widened at this, but then narrowed. He didn't understand.

"What are you talking about. Why would they lure me here?"

Sirch nearly choked on his words as they flooded from his mouth. They didn't have the time for this, but the saiyan wouldn't listen to him if he didn't explain.

"They think that you were the one who killed her, that you killed Itonami. I know you weren't here, but there was a big fuss over it. Didn't you notice patrols all over the planet?"

The saiyan nodded slowly. He was getting loaded with a lot of information that was difficult to believe. Itonami was dead, and the Planet Trade thought that he was the one responsible. The term 'getting thrown under an Oozaru' didn't quite cut it.

"I-.." He began, but was cut off by an explosion at the front of the building. Sirch glanced out the window, only to throw himself to the floor, a spear of light passing over his head seconds after. Dosetsu cursed under his breath, striding towards the hallway entrance and peaking down the stairs. There were two enforcers at the base of the stairway, equipped with generic PTO armor and scouters. He could make out the legs of a third standing out front, but for now these two were his problem.

Out of habit the saiyan reached towards the side of his head to check their powers, but he wasn't wearing a scouter. He felt blind, but he'd fought like this before, on missions where their devices had been disabled by enemy technology. The saiyan would just have to make do with the tools he had.

Dosetsu tossed a ball of energy down the stairwell. He hadn't put much power into it, but it exploded on impact, collapsing a portion of the hallway on the enforcers. Debris began to bury them, and the saiyan took this opportunity to strike. Thrusting both palms forward, pulses of energy began to fire from his hands, arcing down the hallway and colliding with the rubble. The saiyan began firing energy from each hand separately as he continued his onslaught.

"Get out of here! I'm right behind you!"

Sirch nodded, blasting a hole in his roof. He couldn't afford the guard out front noticing him, so he made his escape upwards. The Kabochian considered his options, and decided getting out of the city was the best plan. He justed hoped the saiyan had the same instincts as he did.

He shot from the roof, a blue aura wrapping itself around him as he focused his energy on moving as quickly as possible. He glanced back at his shop, but regretted it instantly. Dosetsu had completely leveled the building, and blasts of energy still shot to and fro, lighting up the Black District.

The Saiyan redirected a blast shot towards him, cradling it in the palm of his hand before tossing it behind him. The three enforcers had cornered him, though he wasn't worried just yet. From the punch their energy attacks packed, they weren't so strong that he wouldn't be able to handle himself.

Two were saiyans, and one was yet another alien that he didn't know the name of. A Pulen, he guessed. He was never very good with that sort of thing. As for the two saiyans, they weren't anyone he'd ever met. They didn't seem to recognize him either beyond him being who they were after. It was better that way, he supposed. The saiyan didn't want to have to kill any of his friends today.

The saiyans dashed at him in unison, barraging him with punches. They managed to press him back despite being unable to land a blow. Dosetsu waited for the perfect moment, before clamping onto both their wrists and tossing them into the air. They collided with an overhang above them, punching holes through it and soaring upwards even further.

The saiyan knew he couldn't waste any time, so he shot forward, digging his fist into the gut of the Pulen. Dosetsu had wondered why it hadn't gotten in close to fight, and now he knew. Blood spilled from the creatures mouth as he withdrew his fist. He watched the alien collapse, and turned his attention back to the saiyans.

They had righted themselves in the air and were now flying back towards him. Dosetsu decided to meet them, exploding upwards from the roof of Sirch's shop and into the air. The trio commenced their battle in midair, the enforcers each fighting a single arm of the banished saiyan. The saiyan on Dosetsu's left, a long haired man, swung his leg into the man's rib cage, hunching him over. The other warrior took this opportunity to bash the back of the banished saiyan's skull with both fists, sending him careening towards the street.

Dosetsu landed on his hands and knees, quickly pushing himself to the side to avoid a ball of fire. These two weren't as weak as he'd thought. The saiyan wiped a trail of blood from his lips, glaring up at the two still floating in the air. They were grinning, as if they'd just won a prize. He'd have to show them how wrong they were.

"Is that all you got? Really? What weaklings!"

The saiyan considered for a moment that taunting them wasn't the best idea, but he pushed that thought to the side. As long as he won it didn't matter. He pushed back into the air, racing towards the saiyans. Dosetsu began to roar as he closed in on the, only to catch a blast from the side, cutting him short.

He fell from the sky like a stone, his body suddenly weak, like all the energy had been drained out of him. The saiyan collided with the top of a building, the roof collapsing beneath him as he fell through to the top floor. He'd landed on his back, which gave him a good view of the two saiyans approaching, as well as a third joining them from the side.

"I'm… honored…" Dosetsu coughed, blood filling his mouth. He craned his neck to see the extent of the damage. A sizeable chunk had been taken out of his side, enough to kill him he was sure. Rage suddenly filled him, and he began to claw at the floor, slowly pulling himself to his feet.

The Saiyan faced his attackers, who now floated several meters above him, apparently waiting for him to collapse on his own. He'd give them a show before he went out, though. That's what he'd always promised himself, to at the very least go out fighting.

"I… I didn't kill Itonami! You bastards! Why are you blaming me!?"

Dosetsu threw his fist upwards, to fire a bolt of energy. Light collected in his hand, but suddenly faded. The saiyan dropped to his knee, the wound taking it's toll. He coughed, and blood splattered on the ground. I guess I won't go out with a fight, he thought weakly.

The saiyan fell the rest of the way to the floor, his arms no longer able to support him. This wasn't how he'd seen himself dying, but then again, he hadn't seen himself getting banished either. He closed his eyes and waited, his body growing cold. He wished he could see Itonami once more, or at least hear her voice.

"I'm sorry… Itonami," Dosetsu murmured, his consciousness fading. As the world began to fade, he thought he heard something, something that wasn't possible for him to hear. He thought he'd heard her voice one last time. He thought he'd heard her ask for help.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Itonami woke, wrapped in cold. The last thing she remembered was the Tsufurujin remarking about deactivating her for the night. The Saiyan had begun to piece together what might have happened to her, though she could only speculate. She thought back to her last assignment; It'd been removing a saiyan from the capital, enacting his banishment. A face brushed the edges of her mind, but she couldn't hold the image in her head. Her thoughts were interrupted as the dark room sprung to life, lights switching on, and computers humming as they powered up. The squattish doctor strode into the laboratory slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning, Itonami. Are you excited to get up and start walking?" He chimed, stopping to look at a display screen before continuing towards her. Itonami went to tense her body, but her muscles still weren't cooperating. The coward must have drugged me, she thought, though that wasn't quite the case.

"Let me out of here or I'll crush your spine.." The saiyan threatened, but her words were as hollow as a saibaman's skull. Dr. Beamed chortled, moving behind her and out of her range of vision.

"What are you doing?!" She called out. She still couldn't struggle, or feel for that matter, but she could tell he was doing something to her. Suddenly her bodily function returned to her. The woman sprang upwards from the table, twisting her body in midair to face the man. She gathered energy in her palm, purple light casting shadows on the far side of the room.

"Whatever you did, you made a mistake, tuffle." The Saiyan thrust her palm forward, willing the energy to fire towards the man. But it wouldn't. Or rather, she couldn't fire the energy. Her body, as well as her mind, were not willing to let the attack part with her hand.

"What.. the…?"

Itonami shrugged it off, the energy fading back into her palm. She quickly closed the distance between herself and the oddly stationary doctor, leaping over the table and thrusting a fist into the tsufurujin's gut. But again, she couldn't. Her fist got close, but that was all it got. It never made contact with him, no matter how hard she strained. It was as if there was some invisible wall separating them.

Beamed laughed again, meeting her eyes as she looked into his face.

"What… what did you do to me?!" She cried, stumbling backwards. The Saiyan began flinging her fists at the man, but to no avail. It was as if her body wouldn't bring itself to hurt the man. She even felt sorry that she had tried, if that were possible.

"Whatever do you mean, Itonami? I've given you back the ability to move. And because you're so grateful, you're leaving me unharmed."

She shuddered, his words like ice pressed against her body. The woman felt remorse at having threatened him, but where were these feelings coming from? This man had held her against her will, toying with her mind as she lay helpless on a cold, metal table. He was a tuffle! Her anger surged again and she brought her fist up. But she couldn't. The man had helped her, hadn't he? Why did her mind keep nudging at her to apologize.

"What… what's going on?"

The Doctor grinned, though the woman didn't notice. Her eyes were downcast, like a child prepared for scolding. This is what victory must feel like, Beamed sang to himself, his mind ablaze with possibilities of what was to come.

"You, Itonami, were nearly killed on your last mission. A traitor, whom your kind had banished, almost destroyed your body."

The man paused, letting the Saiyan digest this. What he told her now was crucial, as her mind was most vulnerable in the few hours after motor function was restored. He'd made a mistake, previously, of taunting the woman with her severed tail. Beamed would have to explain that away somehow, but for now he'd lay down the foundation for the future.

"I recovered you, as the medical squad proclaimed you dead. They said there was no chance that you would survive, and that it was more important to find the one that'd done… this." He gestured to her with the last word.

Itonami followed his gesture, her eyes widening in horror. Her body was riddled with stitch marks, a sign that a large amount of surgery had been performed. She looked back up at the man, searching for an explanation. The woman couldn't bring herself to speak, not yet.

"As I said, your body had been damaged irreparably, or so the medical squad thought. I, however, had the capability of saving you. And so I did."

Beamed leaned himself back against the wall of the laboratory, arms crossed comfortably over his chest. He waited for a response, trying to decide whether or not he'd been convincing enough. This was the third time he'd told her this story, after all. The man hoped that it was not the third failure.

The Saiyan sat down suddenly, her legs seemingly giving out. The man didn't move to help her, though he glanced down to see whether she had fainted or not. The woman shuddered between labored breaths. She'd been wounded, and left for dead… and then saved by a tsufurujin, of all things. The world had been very suddenly turned upside down. "What now..?" She murmured, eyes still downcast.

Beamed thought for a moment, before replying.

"For the next few days I will explain to you your new.. condition. I do not believe you are quite ready today, but tomorrow is another story."

Itonami nodded, pulling herself to her feet. The woman hoped that he wouldn't have her sleep on the table still. It was uncomfortable, and as much as she had slept on the ground on missions, she would prefer not to, at least not while she figured out what was going on.

As if having read her mind, the tsufurujin motioned for her to follow him. The two made their way down a hallway and up a flight of stairs into a plain, if comfortable, living room. There were cushioned seats, as well as a table and bookshelves, and even a display screen hooked into the planetary network. Some sort of news program was on, though Itonami was so starved of everything that she could have watched plasteel harden. According to the broadcast, there'd been a skirmish with a former Planet Trade employee in the Black District.

"I have a room prepared for you, here in the back. I believe it will fulfill any needs you have… I'm sure you're hungry, as well. I'll prepare something for you to eat."

The man's words snapped her out of her trance, and she nodded. She felt oddly warm towards the tsufurujin, though something told her she shouldn't be. The thought drifted away as Beamed directed her to a bed. The room was smallish, though that might have been because the bed seemed so big. There was a bedside table mounted on the wall, as well as a closet filled with clothing.

"I wanted to make sure that everything was in order for when you had recovered. I hope it's to your liking."

Itonami nodded, and the man left to prepare food. She found herself drawn to the bed, and was quickly laying on her side, fighting to keep her eyes open. The room went dark, and she realized that the Doctor had turned the lights off.

"Food can wait," he murmured, closing the door behind him as he left. Itonami was grateful. Even though she'd been unconscious since the incident, she felt exhausted. That thought stuck with her, and she began to wonder how long it had been since he'd taken her in. The woman hadn't managed to see the date on the news broadcast.

"Oh well…" She breathed to herself, her eyes slowly closing. It could wait, just like the food.

The next morning arrived more quickly than Itonami would have liked. They were in an underground complex, so she couldn't tell whether it was actually morning or not, but the Doctor assured her it was time to wake up. It took a few moments, her body unnaturally stiff, but she was able to pull herself from the bed, still clothed in a tan-colored single piece undergarment.

The Doctor eyed her for a moment before leading her back into the laboratory area. Itonami hopped onto a table and sat at his gesture, waiting expectantly as Beamed prepared a few instruments with which to do his tests. As a Saiyan she wasn't overly nervous about medical examinations; they were frequent, and often times invasive. The PTO was wary of the danger of alien pathogens being exposed to planets.

The Tuffle stood before her, a few tools laid out on a maneuverable table to his left. The woman continued to sit patiently, noticing that the man was trying to meet her eyes. "What..?" Itonami asked slowly, her voice coarse from lack of use.

Beamed had never been particularly good with words, so he did what he could to phrase this softly.

"You are no longer, strictly speaking, a Saiyan."

The Tsufurujin wasn't entirely sure how to continue from there, and the look of confusion the woman was giving him wasn't helping in the least.

"When I recovered you.. your body had been badly damaged, so much so that if I hadn't gotten there when I did, you would be dead."

Itonami nodded, clearly not yet understanding what it was the scientist was attempting to tell her. In all honesty, Beamed had expected the opposite. He assumed she would have quickly put two and two together, and begun screaming aloud, or something like that. Being saved from the brink of death by a bionic engineer? It seemed cliche, to Beamed. Apparently movies weren't popular among Saiyans.

"I replaced the damaged parts with machinery, as well as computational components. You are, for all intents and purposes, a cyborg."

At this point a light seemed to turn on in the woman's head, and she lurched backwards, apparently reeling in shock. Going into actual shock wouldn't be a problem anymore, but the figure of speech still applied. The Tsufurujin expected it was quite the revelation.

"S-So.. when… when I couldn't move..?" Itonami stuttered, her words coming out in spurts, but her tone obviously questioning.

"Yes. It would have been far too dangerous, for both myself and you, to allow you to move as soon as you woke up. The time shortly after the procedure is crucial. The mind must be slowly… acclimated… to it's new condition. Otherwise it might reject the repairs, and you would have died anyway."

Itonami nodded again, still shaken by what she had just learned. There wasn't any sort of precedent for this. How was she supposed to feel? Relieved? Glad to be alive? She guessed that was about as close to acceptance as she was going to get. She stood slowly, steadying herself with the table. That must be why she felt so stiff. Her body wasn't entirely muscle, anymore. She was part machine now.

"How… How can I ever thank you?"

Things were going as planned by Beameds' standards. She was accepting of it, if a bit reluctant. He had saved her after all, even if he had been the one to harm her in the first place. But those were details, and details were not something that Itonami needed to be filled in on. For now, the Tusufurujin would exploit any and all gratitude she felt towards him. And from what he could tell, there was quite a bit.

"You can help me."

"Help you..?"

Itonami's face bore a dazed look, bringing a small smile to the Doctor's lips. He cradled her face in his hand, her appearance thrown off by the lack of hair on her head. She was beautiful, he thought, for a saiyan.

"Now's not the time to talk about that. For now, you have all the time you need to adjust to your new life. Once you're comfortable, I'll show you what we can achieve working together."

Beamed smiled at Itonami, and for the first time in five years, she finally smiled back.

* * *

Sorry for how long it was between updates! I had a buddy get back from the Navy, and that's led to me spending a lot more time with him and less time writing. I decided to do a whole chapter on Itonami because I think her part of the story is really intersting, and adds a lot to the rest of the story.

I've had a few questions pertaining to the names in this story, such as Dosetsu and Itonami, and how they aren't traditional Saiyan names. I gave one person an explanation, but I figured I ought to write a little one here as well.

My thought process was that, as societies grow and develop, the popularity of names changes. That can be seen here in the United States, as well as in other countries. Names like John and Henry used to be the most popular, but now that isn't necessarily the case. The same holds true in my story, though I won't be shifting completely away from the vegetable pun names. I actually have quite a few figured out to use as the story progresses, I just didn't see any of them fitting the characters that have been introduced so far.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story!


	7. Chapter 6

**C****hapter Six**

Dosetsu had assumed his death would be cold and quick, his body left broken on the surface of an alien planet. He never thought it would be at the hands of his own people. Warmth seeped into his body through the wounds he'd been dealt. He guessed this was what passing through to the next realm felt like, heat wrapping itself around him as he slipped away.

The Saiyan's eyes shot open, his body becoming alert as he gathered his surroundings. Not dead, he thought to himself, at least not yet. The warmth that was permeating his body wasn't the fire of hell, as he'd assumed, but the healing compound that filled the recuperative tanks employed by the Planet Trade Organization. His eyes began to slowly adjust to the light of the room, allowing him to make out a shape peering in at him.

"So… You're awake." The Saiyan chided, arms folded behind his back as he eyed Dosetsu. The recuperative tanks fluid made it somewhat difficult to see, but the voice rang clear as day. The General of the Saiyan Army. Nappa.

"You know… you're lucky that you picked today to sneak back in. The Prince is off planet, so I'm off duty."

Dosetsu wriggled a bit inside the tank, stopping as he realized he'd been strapped in. He was going to have to listen to whatever it was the General wanted to say to him.

"See, I take a special interest in cases like yours. When they said they were going to reopen the case, I volunteered myself immediately."

Nappa grinned at him through the glass of the recuperation tank, his mustache framing a cruel smile. Dosetsu remembered, then, that he'd been banished, and that he was more likely than not being kept alive to be put on trial for Itonami's death.

"I didn't kill her!" He growled through clenched teeth. Thoughts of the woman raced through his mind, and the very thought of what he was being accused of brought his rage boiling back once again. Pain dug into his side where his wound was continuing to heal, but he paid it no mind. All that he had at the moment was the anger.

Nappa continued on with his speech, as if he hadn't heard the man.

"You see, we did our research. Brought up logs of your missions, as well as security recordings of you around the city. You spent a great deal of time with her. We never could figure out how it was you killed her, considering your combat strength. Not that it matters. With your record, you're lucky to even get a trial."

Dosetsu strained against his bindings, but to no avail. His tail had been restrained as well as his arms, so his wounded strength was even further diminished. The General chuckled at his attempts to free himself, before taking on a more serious tone.

"We're going to make an example out of you. Once they see what we've done to you, they'll probably flee the planet."

"They?" The Saiyan managed through ground teeth. The General wasn't making any sense. Who was he referring to?

"Don't play stupid, separatist."

"Sep-.."

Dosetsu was cut short by an explosion filling the room with light. He clamped his eyes shut, opening them to see Nappa rush towards a hole in the wall. The Saiyan General hopped out of it and took off into the air, seemingly chasing some hit and run squad.

The Saiyan began desperately looking for some way to escape, but there was none that he could find. With his tail restrained he wouldn't be able to break free, and there didn't seem to be any release panel close enough for him to have any hope of reaching.

Defeat seemed to be the only option, but apparently that wasn't how fate wanted to see it played out. Sirch rushed through a sliding door, a key card held defiantly in his hand. He swiped the card, and Dosetsu's restraints gave way. The Saiyan felt suddenly weak, no longer supported by the metallic frame that had held him in place. He fell forward, but the Kabochian was there to catch him.

"You owe me a lot." Sirch muttered, eyeing the wound in the saiyan's side.

Dosetsu nodded but said nothing. He needed to save his breath for the speedy escape he hoped was coming. Sirch guided him to the hole in the wall, casting a wary glance upwards as they reached it.

"Anything..?" Dosetsu asked, separating himself from his friend, supporting his own weight.

The Kabochian shook his head no and stepped out into the open air, taking off in the opposite direction that the General had gone. Dosetsu followed suite, eyeing the sky as he followed the man. He wasn't sure where they were going, but wherever it was he hoped he could get some answers.

**-S-**

Bardock could count on one hand the number of meals that had been that satisfying. Most post mission visits to the mess hall were good, but this one had just been special. The Saiyan emerged from the cafeteria and strode down the hallway, the raucous laughter of the mess hall following him a few strides.

Bardock began to cycle through received messages after reattaching his scouter to his face. One to clear him for duty after his medbay visit, one from Celypa asking about new assignments. Nothing caught his eye until a new message appeared, sent from a PTO dispatcher.

The message was labeled urgent, so the Saiyan accessed it, hoping for an assignment from Frieza himself. Bardock's mood wilted some when he realized it wasn't from Frieza, but a Saiyan fugitive was still fairly interesting. Apparently a criminal had been lured back into the capital, was now being pursued, and Bardock's aid was requested in apprehending him.

He couldn't imagine them really needing his help unless it was an elite, but orders were orders. The Saiyan made his way to an exterior platform and took off into the air, startling a few of the less worldly PTO employees lounging there.

The night sky was lit up by the lights of each district, yellows and reds from the trade district, blues and purples from the entertainment district. The glittering of ships making their way in and out of the city distracted Bardock for a moment, but he quickly returned his attention to the task at hand. Checking his scouter was pointless; the city was full of beings with various levels of power, and the dispatcher request had failed to state the combat power of the saiyan in question. Bardock would just have to look the old fashioned way, much to his chagrin.

The Saiyan picked a direction at random and propelled himself forward, his mind wandering a bit as he glanced to and fro. Apparently the fugitive had been captured, and then had been broken out of a special containment tank. It was surprising to hear that they hadn't just killed him, though it was implied he'd been roughed up when initially captured. How he'd escaped exactly hadn't been stated, though Bardock assumed whoever had come to his aid was at least reasonably powerful and that's why they'd called him.

The smell of smoke broke his train of thought and he whipped to the left. Dead ahead was a prison complex, a towering structure that was almost identical to the office buildings surrounding it. A hole set it apart from the rest, blown out near the 50th story. Several PTO-clad saiyans hovered around the breach, talking amongst each other while an alien investigated the hole itself.

Bardock greeted them with a wave, and looking around with interest. There were two elites, and four soldiers of middling strength. The elites paid him no mind, though he was sure they recognized him. He'd developed a reputation of being reckless on missions, but it always worked out in the end.

The other saiyans were much friendlier, greeting him by name. Bardock nodded and began to investigate the hole a bit. He wasn't very well versed in things like this, fighting was more his purview, so he waited for the investigator to speak to him.

"What happened?"

The alien, some sort of plant creature, turned, surprised by the fact that a saiyan was addressing him. He seemed to be thinking of something to say, so Bardock turned away from him, getting closer to the side of the building. He could make out the containment area that they'd kept the saiyan in, and beside it a display. Bardock put himself down just inside the hole.

The alien opened his mouth to say he shouldn't be in there, but thought better of it. He knew what happened when you tried to tell a saiyan what to do. Bardock looked through the displays, looking for some information on the escapee. There was no name logged, which he thought was curious, but the battle power was listed.

Bardock let out a whistle. He could understand why they'd wanted his help. A power of four thousand was nothing to blink at. The Saiyan moved back towards the hole and lifted up into the sky once more. He rejoined the other saiyans who were still busy discussing what believed to have happened.

"Zunich. What're they saying happened?"

Zunich, a smallish saiyan with equally short hair, perked up at the sound of his name. Bardock could tell he was younger than the others, and this was probably one of the first missions he'd received that didn't entail planet clearing.

"Apparently this is the guy that killed Itonami."

Bardock paused at this. Itonami was an elite, and had been known as one of the best even by those standards. The fugitive was powerful, well above average even, but it would take more than that to beat Itonami. Something seemed off to Bardock, though that might have just been the smell of the capital.

Bardock nodded, and took off towards the eastern part of the city. He'd probably have a day or two before the next mission, considering how big of a job Kanassa was. Why not spend it playing Planet Trade Investigator?

* * *

Yo. I apologize for how short this chapter is, as well as for how long it's been since the last update. I've been really busy spending time with my friend who was on leave from the Navy. He left the day before yesterday so hopefully I can get back on schedule in terms of updating this. Once again sorry about the lateness/shortness, I'll make sure that the next chapter makes up for it.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Dosetsu touched down several units from the capital, sucking in labored breaths as he clutched his side. Sirch landed a few paces from him, eyeing his friend nervously while checking his scouter. They seemed to have evaded any pursuers, but assuming things was far too dangerous at this point.

"We need to keep moving. How's your wound?"

Dosetsu straightened and glanced down at his side, a scorched mess of coagulated blood. The wound had opened back up during their flight, but he'd be fine as long as he wasn't forced into combat. He needed a breather, though. Having the recuperation tanks' process interrupted was taxing on the body.

"It's fine. Nappa caught me from the side while I was handling the other two."

Dosetsu chuckled at the thought. He'd become a high enough priority target that the General was interested in him. Apparently the Separatists were becoming a bother, and somehow his name had gotten mixed up with theirs'.

A throb of pain broke his train of thought, prompting the Saiyan to lift back into the air.

"We'll head to my place. It's near Outpost 0313, a cave by the lake."

Sirch nodded and the two took off towards Dosetsus' home. The Kabochian could tell his friend was having trouble keeping his pace, but time was of the essence. It wouldn't be long before the PTO locked onto the saiyans' energy signature and tracked them down. If it came to blows, Sirch didn't see a scenario where they came out on top.

It took the two a lot longer to reach Dosetsus' cave than they would have liked. They'd opted to make the trip in jumps, instead of risking detection during one long flight. Sirch wasn't sure whether this actually benefited them or not, though. Dosetsu didn't appear to be improving despite the numerous breaks they'd taken.

"You need a recuperation tank." Sirch finally said as Dosetsu collapsed onto his makeshift bed, a grunt his only response. Saiyans had uncanny abilities in terms of recovery, but his friends' wound was serious. By the time it healed, they'd be caught, and Sirch would have lost a lot of blood.

He shook his head at the saiyan whom had passed out moments after his face had made contact with the mattress. He couldn't imagine it was comfortable, some prison style mattress Dosetsu had no doubt salvaged from the outposts waste center. The outpost was mismanaged at best, and the saiyan's cave-home was a testament to that. PTO equipment littered the cavern, though nothing so valuable that it would be missed.

Sirch spied some scouter parts in the back, resting atop a box labeled 'Test Line'. Some prototype equipment probably sent to a low activity outpost for initial testing. The Kabochian was intrigued.

He quickly pried the crate open, taking care not to make too much noise. Every second of rest that Dosetsu got was precious and he didn't think his tinkering was worth disrupting that. Inside the box were several scouters, a batch of one of the most recent update models. How these had fallen into the saiyans' hands he couldn't figure. Perhaps his friend had gained some resourcefulness in the time since he'd last seen him, however unlikely.

Sirch began to tinker with the scouters, opening each with a small multi tool he carried on his person. From what he could tell the scouters had been sent out as a test line because there had been questions as to whether the wiring job would be stable enough. The answer was no, but the Kabochian had a knack for improving upon PTO mistakes. It wasn't that the PTO made unreliable products, rather, mass production had watered down the original product so heavily that any Oozaru could have done better.

Dosetsu stirred on his bed, shifting to a more comfortable position away from his wound. Sirch watched him for a moment before continuing his work. It'd be worthwhile to have Dosetsu outfitted with a scouter. The saiyan could handle himself without one, but the device would only improve their chances at survival.

It only took the kabochian a few moments more to finish his project, snapping the scouter shut and then refastening its' exterior. The man's own scouter lit up and began to beep very suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He nervously tapped the scan button, his hands quaking as numbers spilled onto the screen. One large power had crept up on them, though Sirch had no idea how. The kabochian cursed to himself. He'd gotten so caught up into modifying the scouters that he'd ignored his own.

Shaking the saiyan awake, he quickly scrambled outside, hugging the outer wall of the rock face for cover. He tapped the scan button again, bringing up a small radar screen that pinged the surrounding area. It read clear, but how could that be? His scouter had just read a power of nearly six thousand.

A shadow loomed overhead and Sirch felt his head snap back as he was struck from behind, his body propelled forward by the force of the blow. The man rolled several yards before colliding with a boulder, ending up sprawled on his side. He tried to right himself, planting a palm and pushing up, but his arm didn't want to cooperate. It became apparent that his shoulder was broken, as well as several of his ribs.

The kabochian lifted his chin off the ground, gasping for a breath of air.

"Who..?" Sirch managed, though the words were barely audible. He knew without asking, but staring death in the face made finding the right words that much more difficult. A tall, broad shouldered man stood above him, his cruel grinned framed by a dark moustache.

"What kind of question is that…?" Snickered the General of the Saiyan Army.

Sirch tried to swing his good arm out from underneath him, but Nappa noticed. The kabochian felt the weight of a boot on top of his broken shoulder and braced himself for what was about to happen. The saiyan began to apply his weight to the broken man beneath him, his grin widening with each groan his target let out.

"Is this where he's been hiding all these years?" Nappa questioned. It seemed surprisingly obvious considering how hard they'd searched, at least to begin with.

"Ah, well. We've got him now. The past is the past, I suppose. Stupid bastard was fool enough to show his face in the capital after what he did. Do you really think we don't know what you're all up to?"

Nappa's voice had risen to a shout at this point, his boot having completely crushed the bones in Sirch's left arm. The kabochian bore a dazed look on his face, slowly losing the struggle to remain conscious.

"Hopefully this isn't the best they have to offer…"

Nappa removed his foot from the alien and began to turn towards the cave entrance, his interest in the kabochian having faded. The saiyan was the real prize, after all. A PTO operative going rogue, killing a high ranking officer, and then going into hiding? The General nearly had to wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

The saiyan's scoutered pinged and he took a moment to glance at it. A large energy signal had just appeared on his radar, though it was still a ways away.

"King Vegeta…?" He wondered aloud. The saiyan hoped his King wasn't becoming impatient with how the mission was progressing. He'd have to make this quick.

The General turned to face the entrance of the cave, only to be met with a spear of energy erupting from within the cavern. Nappa knocked the blast upwards, following its' arc as it raced towards the clouds.

"I'll give you credit, kid. For a last ditch effort, that wa-"

The General was cut off by Dosetsus' fist careening towards his face. The saiyan had used the blast to distract the General long enough to get out of the confines of the cave. Against a target as large as Nappa, close quarters weren't ideal.

Nappa ducked below the strike, swinging his fist up to meet his opponents stomach. Dosetsu twisted his body around the fist of the man, swinging his leg forward and connecting with the back of the General's head.

Nappa staggered forward, caught off guard by how powerful Dosetsu was. He was supposed to be wounded, wasn't he? The Saiyan righted himself and stared down Dosetsu who was readying himself for another charge. Nappa eyed the saiyan's torso, and couldn't tell whether he was still bleeding or not. Either way, he had a weak spot to aim for.

Dosetsu closed the distance between himself and Nappa quickly, feinting to the right before connecting his left knee with the other man's jaw. The General staggered back again, but quickly righted himself, wiping his chin with a sneer. He'd been waiting for this.

Nappa went on the offensive now, darting his club-like fists forward fast enough to bend the eyes. Dosetsu dodged back and forth, moving as little as possible as he tried to find an opening. Dosetsu barely caught a knee that Nappa threw in, but wasn't ready for the strike after; a left hook that threw him from his feet.

The saiyan rolled a few yards before spinning out of the roll and into the air, a green aura bursting into existence around him. He shot forward, disappearing momentarily before reappearing in front of Nappa. The two began to trade blows at high speeds, Dosetsu pressing the General as best he could, the other saiyan surprised at how well his opponent was fighting.

"I guess.. this… is how you killed… Itonami!" Nappa growled between breaths, dodging and weaving between Dosetsus' fists as he threw his fists back towards the man.

The duo rose into the air, their attacks echoing off of each other as he strike was blocked. They seemed evenly matched, but Nappa could see that Dosetsu was tiring. He'd been trying to hide the effects of his injury, but now that was becoming too difficult.

Nappa caught Dosetsus' wrist as he threw a punch and tossed him upwards, breaking his momentum. The General then slammed a fist into his torso, his knuckles digging into the mans' side. Dosetsu felt his breath leave him, followed by searing pain as his wound was torn open.

The saiyan fell from the sky like a stone, his collision with the ground carving out a crater where he landed. Nappa hovered in the air for a moment, catching his breath, before landing at the crest of the crater, peering down at the man.

"It would have been a good fight… if not for that little cut you have there." The General chided, his face colored by a satisfied grin.

"I guess that's just the way it goes."

Nappa strode towards Sirch's unconscious form, grabbing him by the ankle and tossing him into the crater on top of Dosetsu. It only seemed right, Nappa thought, that the Separatists die together.

The General faced his palm towards them, light gathering as he focused energy into his hand. A ball of light shot from his outstretched arm, filling the crater with fire. Nappa heard someone land behind him and turned, prepared to bow as he fully expected to see King Vegeta,

"Bardock?"

The aforementioned saiyan nodded to the General, inspecting the crater simultaneously.

"You took care of it, then?" Bardock asked, folding his arms across his chest. Nappa nodded in return, finding it difficult to speak. The power he'd picked up at been near the same size as the King's. Why was Bardock here, then?

The General tapped the scan button on his scouter, bringing up a reading for the saiyan once more. Slightly over ten thousand, it read. Nappa didn't believe it.

"Are they dead?" Bardock questioned, his hands folded behind his head. He seemed bored, which angered Nappa even more.

"My… scouter is malfunctioning. You check."

Bardock grunted, tapping his scouter. He gave Nappa a thumbs up, a halfway salute, and then turned to leave.

"Wait.."

"Hn?"

Nappa paused for a moment, but decided against it. He'd have his scouter replaced once he got back to the palace. No wonder it was so difficult finding those two, he reasoned. It's scanning parameters were completely off.

"Nothing. They've been dealt with, return to whatever it was you were doing"

"I have twelve hours leave. Do you want me to report this?"

Nappa considered it for a moment, but shook his head.

"I'll handle it, low class. Just do whatever it is you do on leave."

Bardock chuckled before taking off into the air, a trail of energy splitting the sky as he raced towards the capital. Nappa spat a bit of blood out before lifting into the air himself. This mission had left a bad taste in his mouth and he was glad that it was finally over.

* * *

Sorry about the huge wait between chapters! Between friends getting vacation time, school starting and Destiny coming out, I had no time for anything else. Hopefully this chapter is satisfying enough that it makes up for lost time, at least a bit. i've already started the next chapter so that shouldn't be too far out.


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